The Man Made of Porcelain
by Moonlit Musical For The Mad
Summary: Dorian never found out about the ritual in time, and thus was forced to undergo the traumatising affair: Only for it to fail and leave Dorian a broken shell of his former self. When the last of the Venatori strike both Tevinter and Inquisition alike, can Dorian find lost hope in the form of the Inquisitior?
1. Chapter 1: Broken Smile

**The Man Made of Porcelain**

Chapter 1: Broken smile

 _Au: Dorian never found out about the ritual in time, and thus was forced to undergo the traumatising affair: Only for it to fail and leave Dorian a broken shell of his former self. When the last of the Venetori strike both Tevinter and Inquisition alike, can Dorian find lost hope in the form of the Inquisitior?_

Dorian squinted his eyes as he woke up, for the first time in what had felt like a thousand years.

He gasped and struggled for breath. His throat was horribly parched, as if it were on fire, and a pounding headache to assist.

In fact that wasn't even the last of it- He felt a similiar, excruciating pain throughout his entire body. It was as if thousands of needles had been pushed into every inch of his skin until they could go no further, through the muscle and into the bone.

At this point, Dorian realised that he could not feel his limbs. He tried to move his legs, his arms, then individual fingers and toes, all to no avail.

He was effectively paralyzed from head to toe.

He tried to call out for help, but not a single sound would emerge from his throat and escape his lips, only agonized screeching would come out. The only result that came of this was his pain increasing tenfold.

His sight was fine and undisturbed, however, and he could see that he was in his bed, in his room, in Tevinter, in the upper floor of his father's manor. He could tilt his head, and see the dazzling portraits that surrounded his room, the bookcase at the end of the room and a cusioned chair besides it, and memorized various other objects and such around his room, such as a desk upon which were books subjected on the Fade and various runes, a portrait of Dorian expertly painted by a famous artist, a nightstand upon which was a bowl of fruit and a candlestick, a wardrobe and drawers, and overlooking all of this was a window with an endless view of the ocean, Dorian's favourite view in all of Tevinter.

He could hear, too-Mostly the infernal blaring that resounded in his ears. After a short while this blaring toned down, allowing him to hear the world around him- And the voices just outside his chamber door.

"Dorian should be awake soon, magister. Calm yourself and give him some time."

Dorian recognised this voice as that of Alim, the family medic- He had gained such a role after running away from his circle in Fereldan, only to be caught by slavers and taken to Tevinter, going through many masters before ending up with the Pavus family, where upon he became the family medic as he was skilled in healing magic and knew how to adminster medical aid without the use of magic, and was treated as he were a member of the family.

Speaking of all of this, how had Dorian gotten himself into this situation in the first place? He wasn't completely sure at all.

He could remember reading in his family's library, specifically Tempting Oddessey, a book by magister Helios Telenius, a good friend of Dorian's. It was a book that depicted a "forbidden love" between a magister and his slave, both of them men (and apparently based on Helios's very own experience), something that had proven controversial throughout Tevinter. It was a wonder how this book alone had not gotten Helios assasinated yet.

Dorian remembered slamming his book shut as his father walked into the room. A natural, and yet one that was no longer needed-Halward knew of his preferance for the "company of men", as Helios had put it, and had disaproved- How they had they had quabbled and argued over it, how hateful words had been shared and slurs had been spilled. They had avoided each other like the plague for two weeks after this, and on the one occasion where they had been forced to sit in the same room, neither man had been able to stand the other's presense and had spat like street cats until they had to be pried from the other, least of all they hurt each other or burn the manor down in an attempt to do so.

Dorian remembered his father's words when he walked into the room-

"Dorian, would you like to go with me to Gerion's? Felix will be there, so I'm told."

 _Who does father think I am?_ Dorian thought. _A child? A week since our last spat, and this is the best peace offering, the best apology this man can conjure?  
_  
Dorian was tempted to say no, just to spite his father, and continue reading Tempting Oddessey. But then he began to wonder- What could he get out of this? He enjoyed his visits to the Alexius manor, the conversations and debates he had with Alexius and Felix, the few people in all of Tevinter- No, in all of Thedas- Who shared his opinions, who saw the dastardly things taking place within the shadows, and felt the need for change. And maybe, just maybe, Dorian and his father could finally find some common ground, before Dorian left for the south.

So, with a heavy sigh, Dorian put Tempting Oddessey on the table, stood up to face his father and said-

"Well, I suppose I could use some fresh air. Why not?"

And then...What? What had happened?

All Dorian could remember was pain, endless excruciating pain.

But what had caused it? What had happened after Dorian had agreed to go to Alexius's with his father? Did it have any to do with his father?

"I just don't understand what went wrong! Alim, is Dorian going to recover from this?"

Dorian could now recognise his father's voice, on the verge of rage.

"Magister, I-"

"IS MY ONLY SON, AND THE ONLY FAMILY THAT I HAVE LEFT, GOING TO RECOVER FROM THIS AND _LIVE_ , ALIM SURANA?!"

Dorian began to think. What had his father meant by "what went wrong"? What did he know that Dorian didn't?

Could he- Maker fobid- Be the one responsible for whatever Dorian was going through?

"For Andraste's sake, magister Halward, please calm down and listen to me. I understand that now is a stressful time for you, but please listen to what I have to say."

"Go on, then. I'm listening."

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying, Dorian will survive his experience. But he will not be the same after what he has gone through, I'm afraid."

"He...He won't be the same? What do you mean by that?"

"Well, the trauma that Dorian has gone through is significant. Did no one have the sense to tell you just how wrong this ritual could go, especially if it was not performed correctly?" Alim said, his voice raised. Dorian could hear sobs on the other side.

 _Ritual? What ritual?  
_  
"They told me...They did tell me that there was a good chance that the ritual could go wrong, that I could leave him crippled or turn him into a drooling vegetable. But I was a fool! I didn't listen, I refused to acknoledge the risk, acting foolish and only thinking about what I wanted. I didn't think at Dorian at all. I'm such a fool..." Halward said between sobs, the anger and grief clear within his voice.

"Thankfully, magister, Dorian is unfortunately not the first case of this particular ritual being performed without success, so we now know what symptoms there are and just how Dorian can be affected."

"And what are they, Alim? Tell me, please."

Dorian, at this point, was listening with bated breath. He wanted to know just what was wrong, wanted to know if he could recover from this- Or if the damage inflicted was irreversible.

"Well, you'll be glad to know that Dorian's sight and hearing will have not been impaired. But that's probably the only good news. For starters, Dorian is now essentially a mute- He can make grunts and whispers and various other odd sounds, but he won't be able to speak anytime soon, if at all. His muscles and limbs will also be affected-He will need to be given pain suppressing oils every day, and he might be able to gain the movement of his fingers and maybe his hands, but moving full limbs like his arms and legs is unlikely. He will spend the rest of his life dependant on others to take care of him and do the things he no longer can, such as cleaning and feeding himself, and will require others to help him move about as well."

There was silence in the air now, heavy and uneasy. Dorian could feel his chest tighten at the news.

Dorian could remember everything now. He could remember the look of despair on his father's face as they walked side by side, and the way his father looked into his his eyes when he asked what was wrong.

"I'm sorry, Dorian."

"Father?"

"This is for your own good."

"What have you done, father?"

Suddenly, Dorian had been grabbed and restrained by robed figures, people whom Dorian did not recognise, people who meant harm. Dorian tried, and failed, to fight back.  
"You will be a normal man now, Dorian, you will not feel the perversions that you feel now."

"Maker...I should never have been so naive as to have trusted you! You fucking bastard!"

"You will be wedded with Livia. I will have my heir, my liniege, and you will be your rightful place in the Imperium as the Archon, and you will make House Pavus the envy of the entire Imperium. We'll change you for the better, Dorian. You will make us proud."

"Festis Bei Umo Canavarum, father! Festis Bei Umo Canavarum!"

Those were the last words Dorian spoke to his father before being pushed into unconsciousness.

He then began to dream, that he was floating peacefully in the ocean, no one to bother or scorn him and yet no one for company. He could hear the crashing of the waves...And beyond that, he could hear chanting, ancient words that were beyond his understanding.

And then the pain began, and instead of floating, Dorian began to drown, struggling to reach for the surface and othercome the waves, gasping for air as water was pushed down his lungs, every breath harder and more painful than the last...

And then nothing. No peace, no pain, nothing.

That must have been when the ritual took place. The ritual that was to change him into the creature that his father wanted him to be, the Dorian he never was and never wanted to be.

"Be aware, magister, that there may be room for Dorian to be able to recover, either in tiptoes or in leaps and bounds."

Dorian heard the doorknob click, and the door creak as it was slowly opened.

"However, that does depend on how much Dorian wants to recover, and to be frank, I will not be surprised if Dorian does not have the heart to recover. You should have never tried to fix something that was not broken in the first place, magister Halward, for now you have broken it beyond repair."

The door creaked the rest of the way, and then footsteps were heard as people walked into the room. Halward then came into view, with Alim close behind him. Neither man could take his eyes off Dorian.

Halward had bags under his eyes from a continous lack of sleep, stuble littered his previously well kept face, and he looked as if he had aged a thousand years within the space of a few nights, showing lines that Dorian knew had not been there before.

Just how long had Dorian been unconscious for, anyway?

"Oh maker...Alim, he's-

"Awake, I know. Try talking to him, magister. You're his father, he'll know you." Alim whispered, so that Dorian would not hear him (although Dorian could hear him regardless).

Halward looked at his son sadly, and then grabbed the cushioned chair that stood next to the bookcase, and placed it next to Dorian's bed, and sat down with some hesitation. He did not speak for quite some time, unsure of what to say to his son, left in a predicament that he himself had left him in.

"Dorian...Dorian, my son, how are you feeling? You've...been asleep for a week now. How do you feel?" Halward said, taking deep breaths with every sentence.

Dorian opened his mouth and tried to speak- And completely forgot that he could not do so anymore. His mouth moved in accordance with the words he wanted to speak, with little effort- But the words themselves would not form, instead only moans and slurs came forth. Dorian then stopped his mouth and stopped trying, not wishing to embarress himself any further.

"Oh Dorian, my poor poor son..." Halward sighed, covering his face with his hands as he began to cry. Alim put his hand on Halward's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Dorian did not take his eyes off his grieving father-He almost pitied the man. Halward then reached for Dorian's hand, grabbed it and held it tightly, his hand as cold as Dorian remembered it being from when he was a child.

"I'm so sorry for what I've done to you, Dorian. I never intended for any of this to happen, believe me, I just wanted my son and now I've lost him for good."

 _But do you actually mean that, father? And who or what are you sorry for?  
_  
 _The son who you have brain-damaged in an attempt to make him "normal"?  
_  
 _Or the dignity and liniage that you have now lost, both in your attempt to do so and as of?  
_  
 _Which mattered to you the most, and which will you mourn the most?_


	2. Chapter 2: Unexpected Visitors

**The man made of porcelain**

Chapter 2: Unexpected visitors

It's been nearly a year since that day.

Dorian has not been the same since. He has scarcely smiled in all that time. It's not because he's tranquil-He can still feel his magic deep within him, although he isn't quite able to cast it yet. And he can feel his frustration at his inability to do the things he was able to do, his anger at his father whenever he was mentioned by Alim or one of the slaves (his father himself had only visited Dorian twice more, and had not seen him for many a month since) and his despair at his overall situation.

His despair started two weeks after he woke up, the day he saw Rilienus for the first time since the ritual. Dorian has been fast asleep before then, in the realm where he could move and run freely and talk and scream at the top of his lungs, without a care in the world, free from the chains and burden of his condition, free as a bird.

Then Rilienus woke him up from his slumber.

Rilienus was an elf, a dalish who had been snatched from his clan when he was merely a child- He bore the Vallasin on his face, golden vines that covered his forehead and reaching under his eyes, the marks almost resembling a mask, complementing his bright blue eyes and his jet black hair. Dorian and Rilienus had been very, very close-

Dorian had had feelings for the man, but had not been able to confess them, and certainly would not admit to it. They had shared many a secret night together, sharing passion and making love away from prying eyes, from those who would insult and prosecute them. But they were not lovers, despite the feelings that Dorian carried, and had never shown each other loving affection, besides from heated, loveless kisses and sharing the same bed, though Dorian had always woken up alone after these nights-

Understandable, really, since Rilienus was a slave with a family to serve. Dorian wasn't even sure if Rilienus was with him out of love, lust or duty.

"Good morning, sleepy-head. How do you feel?" Rilienus said, in a quiet and soothing voice, one that Dorian had ever heard him use before.

Dorian tried to answer- He had, at this point, only just woken up from a wonderous dream, and had forgotten his condition. He opened his mouth, made the oddest groan, and immediantly went quiet, ashamed.

Rilienus could only smile out of sympathy.

Or was that pity?

"I, er, forgot that you couldn't speak anymore. I do apologise."

 _Quite alright._ Dorian thought to himself. _I should be the one apologising for making a fool out of myself just now.  
_  
Rilienus then began to take off his robes-It was the first thing the servants were instructed to do in the morning. Dorian watched Rilienus's determination as he struggled to take of his robes, taking as long as he could, and then the grin of victory once he had finally removed the robes.

Rilienus stared at Dorian's now naked body- Dorian wasn't sure whether to be amused by Rilienus's reaction or unnerved by it. He almost expected him to act upon his rather obvious want.

Instead, he applied some soothing balm to Dorian's arms, legs, and back, and then went about putting on his daytime robes. Dorian was almost disappointed, but he understood- No one would be willing to take advantage of someone who was essentially a cripple. At the same time, Dorian was relieved that Rilienus hadn't taken advantage of him.

After Rilienus had finished with the last of Dorian's robe, he lifted Dorian over to a chair that faced the sea-view window, almost dropping him in the process, and then put him down gently, and rearranged the cusions so that Dorian would be more comfortable.

Rilienus then walked out of the room, but before he did so, he said very quietly;

"I miss you."

Rilienus must not have expected Dorian to hear his words, but he had, and it broke his heart to hear them.

But what broke his heart further was the familiar hinge of longing that Dorian had felt deep within his heart, aching each and every time he saw Rilienus, and every time Rilienus spoke or looked at him.

The hinge that his father had tried to 'cure'- But had now failed.

 _So it was all to no avail,_ Dorian thought mournfully as the first tears began to fall. _All this suffering, all of this, was for nought.  
_  
Dorian only saw Rilienus thrice more after that. The last time he had, Rilienus had done something very unexpected- He had kissed Dorian.

Not on the lips, of course- It had been on his forehead, a sweet and short token touch that Dorian had noticed, that had confused him thoroughly.

It was almost as Rilienus had been aware of his fate.

That same night, Dorian could hear shouts coming from below him, downstairs where his father's study was situated- Dorian hadn't heard anything like it.

The shouts began to get louder and louder, though he could not make out the words spoken. Then, thumping could be heard, as if someone was hitting something against the wall. And then, with a tremendous CRASH! -Almost as if there had been an explosion- The fight had ended almost as suddenly as it had begun. The affair was strange and confusing, and Dorian wanted to know what had gone on.

Come the morning, and Dorian got his answer from Agneta.

Agneta was one of the few human slaves that Halward owned, and the only mage that was owned by him as well. Agneta had once been the eldest of a wealthy family of magi, until a turn of events robbed them of their wealth and reputation and forced them into slavery. Agneta hadn't seemed too beaten down by it, however- She had endured the ability to flirt and gossip with others at free will, though definately not at Halward's approval, a dislike he found himself voicing come most of the parties he held.

Dorian did not mind Agneta's behaviour, however- She was one of the very few people who did not treat him like a fragile piece of porcelain pottery, nor did she show any pity towards him, if not obvious.

"Did you hear all the goings-on last night, Dorian?" Agneta inquired as she helped Dorian eat his breakfast. "Well I certainly doubt that you didn't hear them, the Emperess must have heard that racket all the way from her throne in Orlais! I know what that was, as well. Don't tell anyone I told you- Not that you can, of course- But..."

Agneta paused midspeech, then looked around the room, as if someone had been spying on their conversation, and then whispered-

"I heard someone killed Rilienus last night."

Dorian's eyes widened in shock. Had he not just swallowed his food down, he would have spat it back out in disbelief all over Tavia.

"It's a shock, isn't it? I don't actually know exactly what happened yet, but from what I heard, he and one of the others- Slaves, I mean- had a minor quarrel, then one thing led to another, and the next thing you know..."

 _Rilienus is dead. Maker forbid, the man is actually gone and dead.  
_  
 _Dead.  
_  
Dorian started to shake, shudder and groan uncontrollably, causing the silver platter on his lap to shake along with it's contents, banging and clinging until it soon slipped off, taking Dorian's porridge with it and making a sloppy mess on the marble floor.

He did not stop shaking even after Agneta grabbed him as tightly as she could in an effect to make it stop, and it took five minutes for his shaking to subside. And when he finally did so, he found himself in despair and in tears.

"Shh, shh, it's alright Dorian, it's alright. I understand how you feel- I lost a good friend last night. I always did enjoy his tales of Fereldan, of the Dalish and their traditions, however weird. I don't believe he would wish us to mourn, however. I think he's with Falon'Din now, being guided to his rightful place in the Beyond." Agneta said, as she wiped away Dorian's tears with the back of her tunic sleeve.

"Tell you what- I'll ask Halward if he knows where Rilienus lies, and we'll bury him a tree- I'm not sure what they're called, so we'll probably just plant him an elm- and we'll get one of the others to help us out. How does that sound?"

Dorian sniffed, and nodded in reply.

That night, Agneta kept her promise, along with the help of Alim. They were unable to retrieve Rilienus' body, so they instead collected his belongings- His clothes, a cloak, a book on Thedas history and a wooden sliding puzzle- burned them, placed the ashes in a pot of fine china along with the seed of an elm tree (to serve as fertilizer) and buried it.

None of them had any idea of Dalish death rites, so they merely used traditional Tevinter death rites. Dorian, meanwhile, came up with his own, and held his rites within his heart.

 _May you rest with the honour of Mythal,_ Dorian thought. _And maybe this soon shall be over, and I shall be by your side.  
_  
That was a very long time ago. And Dorian's life had barely changed- He still spent much, if not all, of his day sat on the same overly cusioned chair, overlooking the nigh unchanging view of the endless ocean, with all the same boats leisurely passing by, leaving Dorian to nought but his own thoughts.

It was enough to drive a man insane.

During the Summer, though, when the sun was high and bright, Dorian would instead be carried over to the garden to embask in the warm sunlight. Dorian looked forward to watching the gardener water each and every plant carefully, fussing over them as if they were his own children, as well as slaves rushing on by as they did their day-to-day chores.

No one ever stopped for a chat though, not even the gardener, and that made Dorian feel very unwelcome.

The only two people that gave Dorian the time of day were Alim and Agneta. He didn't see Alim very often- Every other week at the most for his check-ups - But saw Agneta most days, being one of the slaves specifically assigned to taking care of him.

He enjoyed the various things that Agneta kept him up to date with- The latest news, gossip about other slaves and magisters, and the happenings that were going on overseas. But the piece of news Dorian enjoyed about the most of was the Inquisition.

He had shown interest in it since the moment it was reborn. It was the only thing, Dorian felt, that was trying to bring change to the corruption and the negativity of Thedas and for the good as well, and he had pondered briefly about joining it's ranks before his predicament had begun.

Felix had had an encounter with them whilst in Fereldan, during Alexius's fall from grace with an "evil cult" in his own words, and had spoken fondly and positively about the Inquisition, and of it's Inquisitor as well.

Dorian didn't know too much about the Inquisitor- Only that his name was Phoenix Atticus Maximillian Trevelyan. He wished to meet the man for himself, to get to know him better and understand him, but alas, the Inquistion would never dream of stepping a single armour clad foot in villainous, malificaer Tevinter. And even if he did, what were the odds that they would feel the need to pay a visit to a brain-damaged magister?

Then we come to present day, where our story truly begins.

The day had started off rather curiously, with Agneta being the one to wake Dorian up. But that wasn't the curious part.

The curious part was the fact that she could not keep quite today- At least more so than usual. She was, for some reason, very excited, and Dorian could not understand a single word that she was saying- only "Excited", "Inquisition", and "Andraste's magical flaming tits". She spoke so fast and with so much excitement that it was impossible to differenciate word from word.

After Dorian was dressed and fed, he was carried to the chair overlooking the sea, and was left there once again.

When Dorian's dilemma had first begun, he had, out of boredom, put his memory to the test, by reading the entirety of his favourite books to himself, off the top of his head and word-to-word.

However, because of the long amount of time that had passed since the ritual, entire books had now ebbed and faded away out of his memory- Even Tempting Oddessey had lost a few chapters as of late.

Whenever he read these books in his mind, Dorian would combine these activities with a recent revelation- His regained ability to move the fingers and hand on his right arm. While it wasn't much, to him it was a small victory.

 _It's a shame that this is all the progress that I've made within a year, though._ Dorian thought.

Dorian went on his daily practice of wiggling his fingers as he read Tempting Odessey within his mind.

 _From the top, then. Part 1, chapter 1: Amendment of Bonds. It was a beautiful night in the heart of Harvestmere, the river below the stone bridge being illuminated by the light of a full moon, blessing all with it's beauty and wonder.  
_  
 _The night hides a man, born and bred on the streets with nought a friend but the lute on his back...  
_  
Dorian's thoughts wondered off when he saw a ship in the ocean distance.

It was a hybrid of a travelling ship and a dreadnought, and bore a bright red flag with an golden emblem on it, much too big to be that of a merchant but yet too small to be the proud display of a wealthy merchant.

Maybe it was just a modified warship. But whose was it? And what business did it have in Minrathous?

He watched the warship in all it's majesty. It was an unusual sight, one he would probably never be granted the chance to see again.

And then another warship- presumably also a warship- came into the horizon. The ship was completely and utterly black, a stark contrast to the other ship, and unlike the other ship he had seen this ship in the past.

Then, out of the blue and without any further warning, the second ship opened fire on the first ship. Dorian could hear the shocked and horrified gasps of the slaves downstairs, could feel his own breath hitch.

What was going on? What side were these ships on, what had made these two become rivals, enough spite between them to attack each other so near to a place of society?

Within moments, the first ship had returned fire with mage spells and cannons, and war had begun. The combat continued for an intensive hour, one that felt like years, and when the first ship actually caught fire, Dorian thought that was the end, that it would sink and all of this was over, the second ship being the victors.

But what he didn't expect was for someone- or some _thing_ \- to summon a maker damned _thunderstorm_ on the second ship, and with a crack of the biggest thunder Thedas had ever seen, the second ship exploded, leaving not a single evidence that it had existed.

 _How did they manage to pull off something so astounding_ _as that?!_ Dorian thought. _Not even the combined might of ten mages could not pull off such a strong thunderstorm._  
 _The only thing that could have...Is blood magic.  
_  
 _So, a boat hiding a blood mage and a boat full of violent thugs, eh? Who's the real villain in all of this?  
_  
 _The Malificar? Or the fire-starters?  
_  
Dorian watched at the first boat's inhabitants rushed to put out the fire, and after they had done so, began to vanish out of sight, headed in the direction of the Minrathous docks.

Time passed agonisingly slowly. Dorian could hear lots of voices coming from downstairs- guests, he presumed. Halward often invited guests to his manor- friends, fellow magisters and even rivals, all in a bid to impress and ally with them. Dorian very rarely saw these people- Halward didn't want people to see him in such a state. Those who had seen him- Such as Felix and (rather awkwardly) Dorian's ex-"fiance" Livia and her family- had expressed sadness at his condition, and were told that a rival magister had tried and failed to assassinate him in a fit of jealousy.

He was, naturally, unwilling to admit that he had to cure his son of his "unnatural" sexuality with blood magic, and failed epically. It was a scandal, a controversy, that would blow the reputation of House Pavus to the winds, destory it forever more, and bring an end to the Pavus name.

Dorian's assumtion of guests was proved correct with the sound of footsteps, of someone on their tip-toes. He was used to hearing slaves walking quickly on by, and rarely heard his father striding slowly on by, but not tip-toes- they had no reason to do so.

It couldn't be a guest- Guests had no authority to walk up here without Halward's permission. So who was this? A thief? An assassin?

Whoever they were, they had just opened the door to his room, and taken a step in.

"What a maginificent room," The stranger said to themselves, "Is this magister Pavus's room?"

 _Well, that does depend on which "magister Pavus" you're talking about.  
_  
The stranger kept walking on slowly, taking their time to observe every inch of the room and all it's contents.  
And then, the stranger took notice of Dorian.

"Magister Pavus has a son? He didn't tell us that he did."

 _Well that doesn't surprise me one bit. So father didn't even bother to tell his new guests about his cripple of a son. Maker, how typical.  
_  
As the stranger made their way towards him, Dorian began to shake.

 _Don't come near me. You do not want to see the mess that I am. I will probably scare the daylights out of you- Or confuse you at the very least.  
_  
But, to his misfortune, he was not a spirit of command, and the stranger was now stood opposite Dorian, and all he could do was stare at the stranger briefly, and then avert his eyes.

It was a young human man, slim with long brown hair and a beard. He wore a red scarf alongside a white tunic and grey waistcoat, leather gauntlets, black leggings and boots, as well as a leather belt upon which were bottles that were no doubt potions, as well as two daggers, one with a crooked shape and a red gem and the other with a crescent shape, and he carried the broken remnants of what used to be a staff.

"I...Greetings, sir. I take it you are the son of Magister Halward Pavus. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Dorian looked up into the face of the young man.

His face bore many a scar-Going across his nose, across his cheek, down his lip, down through his brow and one halfway across his neck. Although he wasn't the sort of person that would have appeal to Dorian as attractive- he preferred men who were more clean shaven and took better care of their appearance, although the beard suited him- he had to admit this man was more attractive that the average guest that Halward hauled in.

But what struck Dorian most about this man were his eyes. They were green, but not just any sort of green- They were a fade coloured green, reminding Dorian of the breach that he used to be able to spy from his ocean view window. It was a terrifying sight to see at first glance.

 _Just who in Thedas are you?  
_  
He didn't dare speak. He had already embarressed many a time in front of slaves and the visitors he once had, he didn't want to do so again, not in front of a stranger like this.

"Oh, you can't hear me, can you? You're deaf. I do apologise, I should have- hang on..."

The young man then went on to use some very odd hand gestures, ones Dorian had not seen before and thus did not recognise (not that he'd be able to reply to it anyhow).

The young man quickly realised this, and sheepishly rubbed his head when he noticed the lack of a reply.

To both party's relief, they were spared of the awkwardness when another set of footsteps came in.

"Magister Dorian, it's time for- Ser Trevelyan! What are you doing in here?!" A female slave that Dorian recognised as Joy called out angrily.

 _Trevelyan? Why does that name sound so familiar? Wait a second...  
_  
"Ah, I do apologise ma'am, I was curious and decided to take a look around."

"I understand, ser, but you are not allowed in here without the permission of magister Halward. I might as well introduce you since you're here- Phoenix Trevelyan, meet Dorian Pavus, of the Circle of Minrathous and son of Magister Halward Pavus. Dorian Pavus, meet Phoenix Trevelyan, of the Ostwick circle and leader of the Inquisition as well as the fabled Herald of Andraste."

 _Phoenix Trevelyan? I am actually in the presence of the Inquisitor, in the very flesh?  
_  
"I am charmed and delighted to meet you, Dorian. Wait, so does this mean that you can hear me?"

"Why of course ser, he's not deaf, he's just...Well, let's just say a rival became envious of Dorian's skill and decided to enact his envy."

 _Have all the slaves been forced into giving this excuse? Were any of them actually aware of what had happened to me?  
_  
"That's awful, believe me. I saw some similiar things during my time at the Ostwick circle- I nearly became a victim of such myself."

"Envy truly is a wicked thing, isn't it? The sort of thing that creates demons. Now let's go back to the others, I would hate for the both of us to get into trouble." Joy instructed, beginning to take her leave.  
"Indeed. Farewell Dorian, it was a pleasure to meet you, however short. May I come see you again?" Phoenix asked. Joy stopped in her tracks, and paused, before finally giving him an answer-

"That depends on what Magister Halward wishes. Now let us be off." Joy said hastily, before walking away just as hastily. Phoenix smiled and waved good-bye to Dorian as he too departed, leaving Dorian on his own once again.

 _Maker's balls, I can't believe that was actually the Inquisitor! I suppose that must have been what Agneta was talking about earlier. Andraste's flaming magical tits indeed, Agneta._ Dorian thought to himself.

 _It's a good thing that I wasn't in my old condiction, or otherwise I'd have had the insentive to blast him away before he'd the chance to introduce himself!  
_  
 _But...Why here of all places? In fact, perish that thought, why TEVINTER of all places? What had possibly possessed them to lead them here, to the land that stood for all the things that the Inquisition and it's chantry stood against?  
_  
Just as Dorian had begun to get lost in his thoughts, another person burst open the door and came marching in, this time a female elf with the most horribly done hair cut ( _as if she'd done it with a rusty fork in the pitch black darkness,_ Dorian thought) and a torn and messy tunic and equally torn up and messy leggings and a lack of shoes (Halward always demanded that everyone- Slaves and guests alike- wear shoes in his household). She then raced over to Dorian, waved her arms about, and then pulled some hilariously obscene faces, all to Dorian's confusion and amusement.

"Holy shite, that is freaky!" She blurted, and then raced off again as she cackled manically, followed by the cries of a slave begging her to "put some shoes on for Andraste's sake".

 _Well, this can only get weirder from here on out._

 _ **I swear this story is getting longer and longer. The first chapter was over 2,000 words long, this one is over 4,000! I dread to think of chapter 3. B**_ _ **ut anyways, thank you all for your support, I'm so glad you liked the last chapter, I hope you like this one and I appreciate any feedback you give me, whether it be good or bad.  
I'd also like to thank my lovely boyfriend Jack for helping me spellcheck.  
**_


End file.
